Into the Sky
by ChubbyCubby23
Summary: Alfred had always wanted to fly, so when he was offered a job on a military airship, he automatically took the opportunity. Little does Alfred know, that on his adventure, he will reawaken an ancient technology the world would have been better off without...
1. Dreams of Flying

Alfred F. Jones had always wanted to fly. Ever since he was a small boy, he had dreamt of what it would be like to be among the clouds. Being the son of a sky pirate, Alfred had grown up hearing of the wonders of the world from the skies. Going out on his own adventures in an airship was something that he aspired to do, no matter what.

* * *

><p>"Get back here, you bloody git! I'm not finished lecturing you!" Arthur Kirkland, former sky pirate, yelled after his nineteen year old son.<p>

His rambunctious son had gotten into his workshop to continue work on the ridiculous contraption he had concocted. Arthur knew from the moment he saw his son's blueprints that this idea of his wasn't going to end well.

"Ha ha ha! See ya later, old man!" Alfred shouted back, adjusting the foot straps one last time. This was the day he had been waiting for; the day he could finally take his CloudRunner on a test run. The teenager activated the small hovercraft's engine,grinning when the machine roared to life.

"Get the hell down from there, you idiot! You're going to fall and break your Goddamned stubborn neck! Alfred Franklin Jones, don't you bloody dare try and use that ridiculous piece of hardware! It's obviously not safe, so come down here this instant!" Arthur hollered up at the roof of his shop, where his son had climbed up to, trying to test his hovercraft.

"No way! I know it'll work, just wait and see!" Alfred replied stubbornly, settling into a low stance on the board. The CloudRunner was something akin to a skateboard with a rocket attatched to it. Ignoring the angry shouts of his father, Alfred let the machine take off.

Arthur cringed as he heard the loud scraping noise come from the metal rooftop of his workshop. He would have to replace a few sheets of the roofing later today. The former sky pirate let out a frustrated sigh, watching his son rocket off of the roof and into town with grudging pride. After all, he hadn't even thought the blasted thing would get off the roof.

"Bonjour*, Arthur! Little Alfred at it again, hmm?" Francis Bonnefoy, another former sky pirate and Arthur's eternal rival, asked, popping his head out the window of his bakery. "Magnific! He got it to fly! At least he didn't come crashing through my shop this time," the blond man exclaimed happily.

"Shut it, you frog! There were temperamental wind gusts that day and you know it! It wasn't like the moron did it on purpose, besides, I fixed the bloody hole, didn't I?" Arthur growled, eye twitching in irritation.

"Oui*, that you did. And what fine craftsmenship it is! A little bit dull looking, but that shall be fixed soon enough. I was thinking of painting it a lovely bright yellow color, what do you think?" Francis nodded in acknowledgment, a smirk on his face.

Arthur spluttered angrily. Yellow? _Yellow?_ That pompous fool was going to paint over his hard work in a _yellow_ color? "You can't paint it yellow, you wanker! Not only is it a perfectly _horrid_ color, but you would be destroying the detail on the metalwork!" he bellowed, face flushing with anger.

Matthew Williams, Francis's son, sighed. _Not this again... _He watched the two fight as they usually did. The two former sky pirates had had this argument at least six or seven times before.

* * *

><p>Alfred had to admit the CloudRunner was running much better than he had anticipated. The only problem was controling its speed.<p>

"Outta the way!" the teen yelled as he barreled through the streets of London's port town. People going about their daily business scrambled to get out of the way before they were run down, many of them shouting curses at Alfred. "Sorry!" he shouted over his shoulder. Alfred turned to face forward just in time to correct his course, almost mowing into a stand full of tomatoes.

"Oi! Bastardo! Watch where you fly that thing, you stupid son of a-"

Alfred couldn't hear the rest of that insult, but he had a pretty good idea of where it was going. After barely missing a man trying to sell some pots on the side of the street, a sleeping man covered in cats, and a woman wielding a frying pan while chasing an albino man out of a restaurant, Alfred finally made it to the harbor.

Alfred loved the harbor. At any time of the day you could see all sorts of ships from different places coming and going. When he was younger his mother would walk him down to the harbor and let him wander around on his own. It may not have been the safest place for a young child, but he had so many good memories of it.

It was a lot more open at the harbor than in town, so there was less of a chance that Alfred would hit someone, especially if he flew out to the Barren. The Barren was where the airships entered to dock at London's port just before hitting the water. It was a strange phenomenon; it was just empty space, sky that never ended, and then water that led to land.

Alfred let out a loud whoop as the CloudRunner raced above the heads of the boardwalkers, and flew out to the Barren. He hadn't gone that far, still flying over the murky waters of the harbor, before a massive airship came in. It was heading in to dock at port, but was on a crash course with Alfred. Of course, the collision wouldn't even leave a dent in the ship, but the teenager wouldn't be so lucky.

Alfred's eyes widened behind his glasses as the massive vessel soon filled his entire vision, blocking out the rest of the world. He was stunned for a few seconds before attempting to swerve out of the ship's path. Unfortunately, the CloudRunner's speed was too fast, and he ended up going into an uncontroled barrel roll.

The airship continued on its course, oblivious of the small hovercraft in its way.

Alfred struggled to keep his cool as he hurtled towards the massive ship. _Aw, man...This is __**so**__ not going to end well. I can't believe my old man was right! No! Hold on...maybe-_

Alfred tipped himself forward over the nose of the CloudRunner, causing the small hovercraft to dive sharply as it continued to spin. The teen could feel the aether blasts coming from the underside thrusters of the airship; it felt like an icy hot torrent of liquid air. He barely got the CloudRunner under control before colliding with the airship's rudder. Alfred broke his dive and tilted the nose up so that he regained altitude. Dodging the backside thrusters of the ship, Alfred rocketed up and over the vessel.

Alfred let out a shaky breath, still not quite sure that he had survived. A noise very close to an engine backfiring brought Alfred back to reality. The CloudRunner gave a sudden lurch as its engine cut out. _Are you serious?_ That was Alfred's last thought before he came crashing down to the airship's main deck.

* * *

><p>Oui: Yes <strong>in French<strong>

Bonjour: Hello** in French**


	2. The Boy Who Fell From the Sky

Commanding Officer Ludwig Beilschmidt liked things to go according to plan, exactly as he had planned it. A place for everything and everything in its place. He ran his ship strictly and with high expectations for all those aboard.

So when a young blond male dropped from the skies and onto his airship's main deck, Ludwig was not a happy man.

"Ve~ Ludwig, sir, that person just fell from the sky!" Feliciano Vargas, Ludwig's third in command, and the only person he could remotely call a friend, blurted out.

Ludwig followed the smaller man's pointed finger to look at the small, now flaming, hovercraft that had suddenly dropped from the sky. The hovercraft's operator had been thrown from the small vehicle, and ended up rolling head over heels across the deck until he hit the main mast.

"Ja...I see that, Vargas. What I want to know is how he ended up crashing onto my ship. We had air clearance, so there shouldn't have been any other aircraft around us," Ludwig growled, massaging his temples slowly. He could already feel a headache coming on and they hadn't even reached port yet.

"V-Ve! I-I'll get Eduard to contact the Harbor Master and ask what's going on, sir!" Feliciano said quickly, scrambling away from the larger man at the tone of his voice.

Ludwig nodded his acceptance as the smaller man ran off to the communications room. He had a feeling that whatever the Harbor Master had to say, it would have nothing to do with their unexpected guest. The blond man sighed, tensing when he heard a soft chuckle from behind him.

"Well, that was certainly interesting, wouldn't you say, Commander? I thought he was going to get burned up by the underside thrusters, but he must have gotten lucky, da*?" a heavily accented voice said in a cheerful manner.

"You knew he was there? Why didn't you notify me?" Ludwig demanded, turning around to face the owner of the voice.

"I did not think it important at the time," Ivan Braginski shrugged, an innocent look on his face.

"Not important? How is that not important, Braginski? That boy could have been killed! We would have been charged with negligence for his death!" Ludwig bellowed angrily.

"Then it is a very good thing he did not die, da? There was no harm done. Besides...we wouldn't have been able to divert our course. He may have been hit anyway," Ivan replied, grinning at his commander.

Ludwig lapsed into silence. It was true, it would have been impossible to change course at the ship's current speed. "That doesn't make it alright for you to neglect your duties, Captain. You won't be getting any special treatment on my ship just because you're a royal, Braginski. Don't forget that," he ground out, blue eyes blazing with fury.

"I wouldn't dream of it, sir," Ivan answered, giving the man a salute.

"I'm sure...," the Commanding Officer muttered. "Go down there and make sure the boy isn't injured. If he is, take him to the infirmary. When we dock, I want you to escort him back to his place of residence. When you return, you will face punishment for your malfeasance, understood?" he ordered.

"Da, sir. I look forward to it," Ivan replied, clicking his heels together before heading down to the main deck.

Ludwig shook his head in mild disbelief. _There's something wrong with that boy...How did he even get into the military?_

* * *

><p>"Ow...Man, that hurt like a bastard," Alfred groaned, sitting up as he looked around himself dazedly. He readjusted his glasses so that he could see clearly, eyes widening in awe. <em>Holy crap! I'm on a real airship! This is so freaking awesome!<em>

"привет, идиот,*" someone called to Alfred as he got back to his feet.

Alfred turned toward the voice, a confused look on his face. "Uh, what did you say?" he asked, not understanding a word of what the man had said to him.

The man blinked, a look of mild confusion on his face as well. Then he laughed, scratching his cheek absentmindedly. "Oh, I forgot that no one else here knows any Russian. My apologies. Are you alright? You fell pretty hard, da?" he asked, a smile on his face.

"No problem, I'm totally fine! Takes more than a near death experience to get rid of me!" Alfred replied enthusiastically, flashing his own smile. "Man, this ship is so cool! I wish I could - Oh, shit! I almost forgot! My CloudRunner!" he exclaimed, running over to the smoking heap that used to be his invention.

"Aw, man! I'm gonna have to build a new one all over again!" Alfred cried, picking over the ruins of the small hovercraft.

"You built that yourself?" the man asked curiously, purple eyes scanning over the burnt machine.

"Yeah, 'course I did! My old man won't let me go into the military and get on an airship, so I have to make my own stuff," Alfred answered in a depressed tone, recovering the small power crystal he had used to run the hovercraft's engine. He rolled the light blue crystal in his palm, hissing at the intense heat that emanated from it.

"Hmm...How old are you?" the biege haired man asked, hand brought up to his chin in thought.

"Nineteen, why?" Alfred replied distractedly, putting the crystal away in his pants pocket.

"Oh, then you're my age! You can sign up for the military right now, if you really wanted to. If you made this yourself we have a position for you on this ship," the other said, his eyes sparkling knowingly.

"Really? Like, you're not just pulling my leg or anything?" Alfred asked excitedly, hope building up in his chest.

The other teen gave Alfred a confused look, glancing at the blond's leg. "I'm not pulling your leg," he replied slowly, not understanding the saying. "We need someone who can help maintain the ship, we've only got one engineer right now and he's starting to get overwhelmed by the job," he continued, giving a slight shrug of his broad shoulders.

Alfred let out a whoop,jumping around excitedly. "I can so do that job! Where do I sign up?" he asked, blue eyes bright.

* * *

><p>Ludwig rubbed at his temples wearily, glad that they had finally docked. As he had suspected, the Harbor Master didn't know anything about the young man that crashed onto their ship. He glanced up from some old maps, a knock at his cabin door dragging his attention away. "Herein*," he said, straightening in his chair.<p>

"Sir, I think I may have found you a new engineer," Ivan stated cheerfully, stepping into the room with the boy that had fallen out of the sky.

"I thought I _ordered_ you to bring him back to his home, Captain," Ludwig growled, furious at his orders being ignored by the Russian, once again.

"Da, you did, and I would have done that without hesitation, but...," Ivan trailed off, mischief lurking in his purple eyes.

"But what?" the German man demanded, annoyed with the younger man's roundabout games.

"Alfred here is very good with machines. He built that small hovercraft that we saw all by himself. He's been studying airship technology for a few years now," the Russian said confidently, glancing over at the sandy blond teen as he let out a small noise of shock. _So I made up that last part...I'm sure he can learn fast enough! The best way to learn is to do_, _after all_, he thought, grinning to himself.

The Commanding Officer looked the other teen over, interest surfacing in his striking blue eyes. "Is that so? So, you are familiar with the care needed for a ship of this size, firepower, and complexity?" he asked in a serious tone, his expression hard to read.

Alfred swallowed, a nervous smile on his face. _Man...this guy's intense!_ "Uh, yeah...I mean, I've never worked on one before, but I've read a lot about them and studied tons of different models. Like the _Queen Mary Fighter_! That was an amazing ship, especially when you consider how small it was compared to the Spanish _Imperial negro águila_*!" he blurted out, waving his arms around in wild gestures.

Ivan raised an eyebrow at Alfred's rambling, not expecting his little fib to be true. _He actually knows about this stuff? _

"So...you may know some history, but that alone doesn't qualify you for the job," Ludwig said, slightly impressed all the same. "You can work on small aircraft, I presume. If your little hovercraft was anything to go by." Alfred nodded at this. "But do you think you can handle working on a two ton engine for most of the day and night with very few breaks in between shifts?" he asked, looking the sandy blond in the eye.

"I'll do whatever I need to, uh, sir! It's been my life's dream to be on an airship, so actually being able to work on one would be incredible! I know I'm inexperienced, but I'm willing to do whatever it takes. Day or night, sun or raging storm, calm sailing or battle; I'll do what I need to," Alfred replied, determination burning in his sapphire eyes.

Ludwig lapsed into silence, folding his arms across his chest as he thought. _Well, the boy has spirit,a nd guts...He looks dependable and eager to please...Whether or not he will live up to what he says is still up for debate, but...I'm going to take a chance on him. _He stood up from his desk, going over to an elaborately carved panel in the wall. Ludwig popped the small door open, pulling out a clear crystal.

The German held it up for Alfred to see, his face still serious. "This," he gestured at the crystal, setting it down on the surface of his desk, "is what we use to keep a record of every man on this ship. It's called a Blood Stone, on account of it using a small amount of blood to log away information. It keeps track of your age, health, and other information that identifies you from another crew member. It will also notify the Master Crystal at the Military's headquarters if you have been killed in action, so that we may tell your next of kin," he explained, tapping the top of the crystal with his index finger.

The crystal glowed, enveloping the cabin in a soft blue light. "Identification," a detatched and airy voice stated, emanating from the stone.

"Ludwig Erhard Beilschmidt, Commanding Officer of the _United Arms_," Ludwig said, opening a drawer in his desk to retrieve the legal forms that Alfred would need to sign.

"Identification confirmed," the disembodied voice stated blandly, the crystal seeming to unfold at it's point.

Alfred gaped at the stone in awe, leaning closer to the desk to look at the pulsing core of the crystal. "Whoa...that is so cool," he murmured, eyes scanning over the stone in curiosity.

Ludwig cleared his throat loudly, grabbing the teen's attention, and motioned for Alfred to sign the papers that were layed out on the desk's surface. "Are you sure you wish to do this?" he asked, watching the sandy blond carefully. He always asked this question; he felt the need to be that last rational thought, for possible new recruits, especially the young fools that were out to prove something. The German's stern gaze flickered to the surprisingly quiet Ivan, remembering when the young Russian noble had approached him.

_"What? Why would you want to sign yourself to my ship? You're a noble - a royal, actually! You have a steady future ahead of you, why are you willing to risk it?" he had asked in utter confusion, his voice harsher than he meant it to be._

_The young man seemed unfazed, a strange smile on his face. "Royalty and status mean nothing in the heat of battle, so why is my future considered more important than the commoners who die defending their country and those they care for? I have something to prove,a nd I will not be denied this," Ivan replied, his gaze fiercely defiant._

Ludwig had just been promoted to Commanding Officer at the time, and had flat out refused to take on the Russian. He was not going to be responsible for putting the young noble in danger, especially if something went horribly wrong. As the Commanding Officer, Ludwig would have been held accountable for the Russian's death, and would have to face the wrath of the royal family.

But Ivan wasn't one to give up easily, and he went to the Military's Headquarters to convince them to let him sign onto Ludwig's ship. Because of his family's influence Ivan had been granted his request, and Ludwig had been saddled with the young noble. The German man still didn't see how the Russian was qualified to join - sure, he was an amazing pilot and fighter, but he was just so..._juvenile_.

"I'm absolutely sure!" Alfred blurted out excitedly, quickly scrawling his signiture where it was needed.

Ludwig nodded and shifted his gaze back to Alfred, collecting the signed papers. "Now, place your hand over the core," he ordered, his tone still serious.

Alfred grinned and eagerly placed his hand over the pulsating light that was at the center of the crystal. He winced when he felt something jab his palm, and saw that a thin, needle-like spiral of crystal had emerged from the core of soft blue light.

"Name," the voice stated, the needle retreating back into the core.

"Alfred Franklin Jones!" he replied proudly, pulling his hand back.

There was a short pause. "Alfred Franklin Jones...Identification confirmed."

* * *

><p>Da: Yes <strong>in Russian<strong>

привет, идиот: Hello,idiot **in Russian**

Herein: Enter **in German**

_Imperial negro águila: _Imperial Black Eagle **in Spanish**


	3. Breaking Ties

"We'll be in port for a few more days, so you have time to arrange what you need. You are expected back here in three days, though, so keep that in mind," Ludwig rumbled out, giving the blond teen a strict look.

"Three days, got it!" Alfred replied excitedly, heading out of the Commanding Officer's quarters with a skip in his already bouncey step.

The German man let out a stressed sigh, glaring at the somewhat smug looking Russian that was still in his presence. "_Why_ are you still here, Braginski? You are still under orders to escort back to his residence...I also want you to keep him out of trouble before we depart, young men tend to do idiotic things when they think they're going to be heroes," Ludwig muttered, returning to the discarded maps on his desk.

"Da, of course, sir," Ivan said in a light tone, turning to leave.

"You are still to be punished for your previous actions...or lack there of. You will have the honor of informing your squadmates of your punishment. I want you all on the midnight dogwatch for the next month," the Commanding Officer reminded sternly, his gaze trained on the other's back.

The Russian partially turned his head, like he was going to look over his shoulder at his superior officer, but his deep purple eyes weren't focused on the blond man. Ivan remained silent as he left the Commanding Officer's quarters.

* * *

><p>Alfred could barely contain his excitement as he ran through the streets of London, heading straight back to his home to tell his father the great news. He couldn't believe it! Working on an actual airship! Alfred let out a loud whoop and jumped in the air as he ran, startling the passersby around him.<p>

He turned a corner, dodging a street cart and its salesman, not stopping his breakneck speed until he came upon the familiar house made of steel and other sheets of metal. Alfred grinned as he craned his neck to see his father hammering away at the roof, a scowl more than likely on his face.

"Hey, Pops, what're you doin' up there?" Alfred called up, giggling behind his hand like a little kid as his father nearly slipped.

"I'm fixing your bloody mess, brat! And speak properly, you dolt! You're bastardizing the Queen's English!" Arthur yelled, waving his hammer threateningly. "Where's that horrid machine of yours?" he inquired in a miffed tone, one thick eyebrow cocked questioningly.

Alfred frowned at the question, remembering how he had last seen his CloudRunner; burning and warped beyond any further use. "Well...I may have...," he mumbled out the rest, his hand covering his mouth.

Arthur's eye twitched. "What was that?"

"I may or may not have wrecked it..."

"You...destroyed it..._Alfred_, you used good materials on that blasted technological abomination! That costs me money! Money I don't have enough of to waste on experiments like that thing!" Arthur shouted, frustration burning in his emerald eyes.

"I saved the power crystal!" Alfred retorted, digging a hand into his pocket and retrieving said item, holding it out for the other to see. "'Sides, I didn't use that great of metal on it. Pretty much just scrap metal from your work," he added, a stubborn pout on his lips.

Arthur merely grumbled something under his breath, climbing down the ladder on the side of the two story building that served as his work shop and living space. "Well, give it here. I don't want you touching my equipment or materials until you learn a bit more about metal work and engineering," he said, holding his hand out for the crystal.

Alfred grudgingly handed the small, light blue crystal over to his father. "Yeah, I've gotta tell ya something 'bout that. I'm gonna be getting a...working education on that stuff, y'know?" he said in an uncertain voice, his eyes wandering the space around his father.

"Hm? Did you get that worthless tosser, Gilbert, to finally give in and hire you in his metal yard? I'll admit, he's not good for much, but that kraut _is_ an expert in engineering and metal work. You can learn a lot from him if you pay attention and keep your eyes and ears open," Arthur hummed in disinterest, placing the crystal into his vest pocket.

"No...I got signed onto an airship...," Alfred murmured, not knowing where his excitement and confidence had sprinted off to. He winced as realization slowly made its way onto his father's face.

Arthur licked his lips, his green eyes darting back and forth as his mind struggled to form a reaction. "Run that by me again, lad...," he whispered, bringing a hand shakily up to his head.

"I signed onto an airship. You know how much I've wanted to do this! There was an opening for an engineer, and I qualified, so I took the job...I'm gonna be leaving in a few days," Alfred repeated, regaining some of his confidence.

"No."

Alfred blinked, not expecting that sort of blunt reaction from his father. "Huh? What're you sayin'? I already signed the contract, so it's official!" he huffed, crossing his arms stubbornly.

Arthur bristled, his eyes blazing angrily. "I said no, Alfred! You're not going off to get killed for the bloody government!" he shouted, his lips curled up in a snarl.

"I'm not a kid anymore, Dad! You can't just order me around! This was my decision, one I made all on my own, and I'm not letting you get in the way of my dream! I thought you'd be happy for me, but I guess I gave you too much freaking credit!" Alfred screamed, turning and running away.

"I don't want to see you coming back here when you get scared, Alfred! You made the choice, you deal with the consequences!" Arthur yelled at his son's back, his face hot with barricaded emotions. Once the teenager was out of sight, he stomped into his shop and threw his hammer at a stack of metal sheets that were leaning up against a wall. The resounding crash was followed by a howl of loss as Arthur fell to his knees, his dirty hands fisted into his shaggy hair.

* * *

><p>Ivan hummed a dark tune under his breath, his amethyst eyes sifting through the dull crowd of people moving like frightened cockroaches on the harbor front, as he searched for the <em>United Arms<em>' new engineer. _How does the Commander expect me to escort him home when the fool doesn't wait for me? Hmm...I wonder where he would run off to..._, the Russian puzzled, choosing a random direction to start looking in. While it had been enjoyable testing his commanding officer's patience and temper, he didn't want to push the German any further today. His squadmates wouldn't give him any thanks for the punishment.

Ivan chuckled at the thought of his squadmates' reactions to whatever punishment Commander Beilschmidt gave them. _Toris will probably take it fairly well, he usually does. Now, Feliks...that will be interesting._ He shook his head at the unwanted thought, already hearing the Polish man's annoying voice complaining in his mind.

After wandering around for the better part of two hours, getting completely lost and then trying to retrace his footsteps only to get more turned around than he already was, Ivan was starting to get very irritated. He let out a frustrated exhalation, glancing around the street he was currently on. Out of the corner of his eye he saw someone with blond hair that closely resembled Alfred's, so he trotted over to the person.

"Ah, there you are! I have been looking all around for you, da?" Ivan said, slamming a hand down on the other's shoulder in case he had any other thoughts of wandering off without him.

"M-Maple! W-Who are you?" the teen squeaked out in surprise, spinning around to face the Russian.

Ivan blinked in confusion, looking the smaller male over carefully. "You are not the idiot...," he stated slowly, bringing his hand from the youth's shoulder to scratch confusedly at his cheek.

"N-No, I'm not!" the other confirmed, unsure if he should be insulted or not.

"But you looked very much like him from behind," Ivan muttered, annoyed that he _still_ had not found Alfred.

Something seemed to dawn on the adolescent suddenly, his face turning brightly animated. "Oh, I know who you're looking for! Alfred, right?" he asked, a tired smile on his face.

"Nyet, I'm Ivan, but I am looking for someone named Alfred," Ivan replied, still studying the other boy. _They look a lot alike...I wonder if they are related?_ he thought, letting his mind take him away from the conversation he was having.

"That's not really what I meant, but...Um, are you listening to me, eh?" the other teen asked in a soft voice, sounding a little frustrated.

"Hm?" Ivan hummed, returning his attention to the strawberry blond. "Were you still talking?"

The wavy haired teen sighed, muttering something under his breath about never being heard. "Listen, if you're looking for Alfred, he's probably down at the metal yard. It's near the harbor, so just head back that way and you should find it pretty easily," he explained, pointing down the street to where the flow of people were heading.

"Ah, спаcибо*! You are very helpful, малыш*," Ivan said in a grateful tone, clapping the other boy roughly on the back before sprinting off down the cobblestone street.

"You're welcome, I guess?" the other replied in a confused tone, staring after the larger teen as he left. The strawberry blond shook his head in mild amusement, heading over to the bakery. _Alfred, you sure do make some strange friends_, Matthew thought to himself, checking the bread that was baking in the stone oven before setting more cookies out for display.

"Matthew, who was that you were speaking with? He didn't look familiar to me," came Francis's lilting voice as he stepped into the room.

"I don't really know, Papa. I think he may have been a friend of Alfred's," Matthew answered, starting to clean some of the bowls and other dishes that had been used in baking already that day.

"Is that right? Well, that's interesting...," Francis murmured to himself, his ocean blue eyes glancing out the door to the metal house across the street. _Arthur...I'm sorry_, he thought, having heard the Englishman's fight with his son earlier.

It was hard enough to know that his son was going to be in harm's way, but to leave on such bad terms was something Francis would never be able to bear. He had wished many terrible things on his rival, but this was something he wouldn't wish on any person, let alone any parent.

"Dieu, surveiller au-dessus de lui*," Francis uttered, closing his eyes as he fingered the gold cross at his neck.

* * *

><p>спаcибо : Thank you <strong>in<strong> **Russian**

малыш : Little one **in Russian **

Dieu, surveiller au-dessus de lui : God, watch over him **in French**


	4. Free Spirits

"Hey, schlingel*, if you're just going to mope around here you _could _help clean up," Gilbert Beilschmidt said in a slightly irritated voice, glancing over at the teenager.

Alfred remained silent, but he picked up a broom that had been leaning up against the counter that Gilbert was sitting at, and proceeded to half-heartedly sweep the floor.

The albino Prussian sighed, placing the small gadget he had been tinkering with down on the counter top. "What happened, Alfie?" he asked, leaning on his elbows.

"Nothing much...," the teen mumbled, keeping his eyes trained on the floor.

"Pfft, well, that's a fuckin' lie if I've ever heard one! C'mon, kiddo, you can tell your old buddy Gil!" the Prussian pressed, a wild grin splitting his pale face. "You ain't ever shut up about stuff before, so why start now?"

Alfred looked up at the older man to give him a face, but he didn't keep up the look for very long. "Just got into a fight with my old man about signing onto an airship...He didn't take the news very well," he sighed, going back to his sweeping.

"You signed onto an airship?" Gilbert inquired, perking up.

"Yeah, some military ship," Alfred confirmed sullenly, stopping his sweeping to lean against the broom.

"So, you finally grew a pair and joined up! Kesesese! I was starting to think you didn't have it in you, you tumb* bastard!" Gilbert snickered, thumping a hand on the counter top.

Alfred scowled at the loud Prussian, but he knew that the other was just playing around with him. "Yeah, yeah...Laugh it up! At least I can go outside without burning up in a couple of seconds, even here in _rainy_ London," he shot back, smirking.

"Hey, I am made of pure _awesome_! It's not my fault that everyone, _including_ the sun, is jealous of me! Isn't that right, Gilbird?" the albino retorted, turning to a small bird cage that rested on the end of the steel counter.

A small cheep was heard from the cage, and a yellow chick poked it's head in between the iron bars of the cage.

Gilbert smirked triumphantly, "See? He agrees with me completely."

"And you wonder why people call you crazy...," Alfred chuckled, shaking his head in amusement. He was about to start up his sweeping again when he felt something barrel into him from behind, the strange sensation of being lifted off the ground making him drop the broom in surprise.

"окончательно*, I found you!" a heavily accented voice exclaimed from somewhere above Alfred's head.

"Who the hell are you?" Gilbert demanded, his hand hovering over the gun that was hidden under the counter.

"Whoa, hey, put me down! You're squeezin' my guts out! Can't...breathe...," Alfred complained in a wheezy voice, the air having been knocked out of him.

"Oh, Прошу прощения*! I did not mean to," the voice said in an apologetic tone, strong arms releasing Alfred suddenly.

The blond teen yelped as he connected with the ground, landing face first into the small pile of metal shavings, sawdust, and dirt that he had swept up previously. "Thanks...," he muttered, spitting out dirt.

"You are welcome," Ivan replied, grinning down at the other teenager.

"He was being sarcastic, dummkopf*," Gilbert sneered, rolling his red eyes at the Russian.

Ivan blinked in mild surprise, having not noticed the Prussian when he rushed in. "I would ask that you not insult me, Herr*, not even in your Muttersprache*. I will know what you say, da?" he replied in a light tone, though his purple eyes had turned cold.

"So, you speak German but you suck at English? Where are your priorities?" Alfred asked in a joking manner, oblivious to the tension growing between the other two.

The Russian switched his attention back to the blond, his expression shifting to one of mild confusion. "We do not speak English very often in my household, but my mother has relatives that are German, so I learned that language fairly easily on account of having to communicate with them," Ivan answered, a grin making its way back onto his face.

Gilbert's red eyes narrowed at that, his mouth set into a thin line. _Who is this guy? I know I've never seen him around here before, I'd remember that stupid look on his face...He must be from that military ship Alfie was talking about earlier, from the looks of his uniform, and there aren't any other foreign military ships in port right now. I don't like him..._, the Prussian seethed, grinding his teeth together. "What do you want?" he demanded, glaring hotly at the Russian.

"Oh, da, I almost forgot! Commander Beilschmidt wanted me to escort you back to your home, and make sure you don't get into any trouble before we depart," Ivan said, pulling Alfred to his feet by his shirt collar, keeping a firm hold on him.

"Ack! Again with the choking and not breathing!" Alfred coughed, rubbing his throat. "Wait, what trouble? I don't get into trouble!" he exclaimed, trying to turn and face the Russian but unable to break free of the squad captain's strong grip.

Gilbert guffawed at that. "Yeah, right! Kesesese, that's a good one, Alfie!" he burst out, wiping a fake tear from his eye.

"I don't!" Alfred continued indignantly, pouting slightly.

"What would you call falling out of the sky and onto our ship, comrade?" Ivan inquired cheekily.

"That was only because of the second hand engine on my aircraft! If I had better materials then none of that blowing up shit would've happened!" Alfred retorted, crossing his arms petulantly.

"You blew something up again?" Gilbert asked, taking back up the small gadget he had been tampering with.

Before Alfred could respond, Ivan happily stepped in, "Da! There was nothing left of it but a pile of warped, burnt out metal."

Alfred huffed, elbowing the larger teen in the gut. "Geez, is no one on my side today?" he cried out, throwing his hands up in the air.

"Nope," Gilbert answered simply, bouncing the orb shaped object in his hand. "Finished!" he announced proudly, a wild grin on his face.

"Really? Cool! What is it?" Alfred asked in a rushed tone, his blue eyes sparkling with interest as he tried to wriggle out of Ivan's grasp and closer to the object.

"Whoa, don't get too close, kiddies; this thing can take your eyes out in a second. Stand over there and watch," Gilbert ordered, gesturing to the space on his right.

Alfred excitedly dragged a hesitant Ivan over to the spot, practically bouncing up and down in anticipation of whatever was about to happen. Ivan shifted uncomfortably, not really liking the "take your eyes out" comment.

Gilbert pressed a small button on the top of the orb, then tossed it into the air. The small metallic object started beeping as it hovered in mid-air. Lights started flashing on its side and then small projectiles ejected from it, hurtling in every direction. The three ducked quickly to avoid several of the objects, the projectiles embedding themselves in the wall behind them.

"Holy shit! Those almost hit us!" Alfred exclaimed, examining himself to make sure he hadn't been hit.

"Aha...Yeah...," Gilbert replied shakily, sweat dripping down his neck.

"You are...dangerous, comrade," Ivan said slowly, glancing at the needle-thin dart that was embedded where his head had been moments before.

"First off, I'm not your comrade! Second, that's what it's supposed to do; it was designed for combat situations. Sure, it may still need some work, but it does what I want it to do for the most part," Gilbert snorted, pulling one of the projectiles from the wall. "Ah, why don't you two beat it already? You're messin' with my awesome genius here!" the Prussian suggested, waving a hand absentmindedly at the two as he started to collect the darts.

"Yeah, I don't really want to lose an eye or something...Guess I'll see ya when I see ya,Gil," Alfred said, his mood dampening as he realized he wouldn't see the eccentric Prussian man for a while. He trudged out of the workshop gloomily, tugging along Ivan - who was keeping an eye on Gilbert, just in case he decided to set off that little weapon again - on account of the Russian still having a hold on the back of his shirt collar.

Gilbert didn't watch them leave, his task of cleaning up the small darts keeping his attention for the moment. "So, my tight-assed little brother is in town, huh? I should drop by and give him a good scare," he said to himself, a warm smile on his face.

* * *

><p>"Arthur, mon ami, let me in! I just wish to speak with you!" Francis called in a slightly exasperated tone, knocking on the steel-plated door of the Englishman's home.<p>

The French sky pirate, turned baker, had decided to try and have a civil conversation with his rival of old, but so far he had been stalled by the Englishman's stubborness to not even open the door for him. Francis had heard Arthur's arguement with his son, Alfred, and he only wanted to make sure that the former sky pirate didn't do anything rash.

Francis sighed when his call went unanswered yet again, and reached into a pocket on the left side of his white silk shirt. He pulled out a small, golden pin, slipping the slender object into the key hole of the door. There was the slightly muffled sound of shifting gears as the pin changed shape to copy the combination of the lock, an abrupt click signaling the Frenchman's success in unlocking the metal door.

"'Allo? Arthur? Do not shoot me as I walk through the door...That would be most unpleasant," Francis said in a raised voice, so that the other man knew he was entering. He remembered the Englishman's tendency to shoot at people, namely him, that interupted him in his work. Whether the work was pirating or engineering.

"Whut in the 'ell do you want, frog?" Arthur slurred, straightening up slightly from his hunched over position at the table in the center of the room. His fingers tightened around the neck of a bottle of rum, the little bit of remaining liquid sloshing around in the glass container.

"I wanted to speak with you, Arthur...but I now fear that your ears would be deaf to what I have to say at the moment," Francis murmured, eyeing the bottle of alcohol with slight distaste. Although Francis quite enjoyed a good drink now and then, he was none too fond of what alcohol could do to a person.

"Oh, go on, you blighter! Say whutever it was you came 'ere to say!" Arthur hissed, knocking over the bottle of rum with a wide sweep of his arm; the crash of glass ringing throughout the room.

Francis didn't flinch at the other man's actions, having seen the blond get into worse states before. _Although, it has been quite a while since I've seen Arthur get like this...Not since __**she**__ died..._, the Frenchman thought to himself, stepping around the shattered glass on the stone floor.

"Arthur, you should not have left things with Alfred in such tatters...You _know_ that boy thinks the world of you, so why do you push him away like this? He is leaving, Arthur, whether you like it or not. He is a free spirit, much like his mother, and he was bound to strike out on his own, more than likely without your permission...Do not let him go without trying to mend what you have torn. You are good at fixing things, even when they seem irrepairable, so do _not_ give him up without a fight," Francis said, his tone stern and serious.

Arthur's green eyes, though dulled slightly with drink, held a sharpness that forebode of irrational thoughts. "Get out...," he growled, teeth bared like an angry dog. "I'll not be lectured to by the likes of you! You 'ave no right...no _bleedin'_ right to speak of such things to me! I gave up everythin' for that ungrateful welp, and how does he repay me? By runnin' off to get 'imself killed in some idiotic gambit of the government!" the blond shouted, rising out of his chair and slamming a fisted hand onto the table in rage.

Francis kept his silence as the Englishman collapsed back into his seat, slumping lethargically.

"Now...Now he's just goin' away...He's leavin', and I can't bloody stop 'im! He...He could be killed out there, Francis, and I won't be able to protect 'im...I swore, as his father - for all that I was worth as one - that I would keep 'im safe...keep 'im protected...And now, I'll have failed at being his father...," Arthur spat out, self-loathing set deeply in his eyes.

"He's not gone yet, Arthur," Francis said in a low voice, turning to leave.

"Why are you doin' this?" Arthur mumbled, gazing blearily at the wavy haired man's back. "We've been rivals ever since I can remember, and it wasn't ever a _friendly_ rivalry...So, why?" he repeated, sounding slightly sobered and clear-headed.

Francis looked over his shoulder at the Brit, a small smile on his face. "Our rivalry lasted many years, and in some aspects it still lives on, but I like to consider that as dead as the time in which it lived. We are no longer the fears of the sky, mon ami. I like to keep the past locked away in the past, while I remain to live freely in the present. So long as I keep that frame of mind, I have no reasons, other than the ones you provide me with on nearly a daily basis, with which to hold you to my former hate," he replied, winking mischieviously.

"You nearly had somethin' there, but you bloody killed it with that wink...," Arthur muttered, shifting his gaze to a warp in the wooden table.

"Just get some rest, Arthur," Francis said, leaving the other man to his thoughts once again.

* * *

><p>"Comrade, you are looking rather...Ah, how do you say it in your language?" Ivan fumbled for the right words in the unfamiliar tongue, making lazy gestures with his hands in an attempt to convey what he was trying to say.<p>

"Down?" Alfred suggested dully, kicking half-heartedly at a stray pebble on the street.

"That sounds like it could be right...Your English is very strange and hard to get a good grasp on, da?" Ivan sighed, puffing his cheeks out like a chipmunk. "So, why are you, as you say, down?" he inquired, his eyes wandering off the cobblestone streets to gaze curiously at the many street vendors and shops.

"Why do you care? I mean, we barely know each other," Alfred pointed out, glancing at the larger teen. He couldn't help but smile a little at the look of fascination on the other's face, the Russian's attention drawn from one thing to another like an over-eager puppy. "What, never seen a market place before?" he laughed light-heartedly, a grin breaking through his previously dark mood and expression.

Ivan's face flushed slightly, and he rubbed the back of his neck in an embarrassed fashion. "Nyet, not until recently. I grew up...very differently than most people, very sheltered, " he answered haltingly, not wanting to tell Alfred the truth of how he grew up. As the second youngest of the Russian royal family, he was raised behind gilded walls and plush curtains; never really leaving the palace for anything. He didn't want to be treated differently by the blond teen, like he was by the other crew members that were aware of his high status.

"Huh...That sounds kinda boring. So, you didn't get to run around and explore as a kid?" Alfred asked, his curiousity in the Russian now heightened. He couldn't imagine what growing up in such a way would be like, having spent the majority of his time wandering around outside of the house.

"I found ways to entertain myself," Ivan replied vaguely, chuckling as he thought back to what he had put the palace servants through when he was a child. "You are not answering my question, though," he hummed, reminding the other teen of his previous inquiry.

"Ah...Right, that...," Alfred sighed, shoving his hands into his trouser pockets. "Well, my father wasn't too happy about hearing that I'd signed on to a military airship. He kind of has a..._thing_ with the government. So, we had a fight, I left, and that's how we're probably gonna let it stay since the ship will be leaving in a couple of days and I plan on avoiding him," he mumbled, scrunching his nose up in displeasure.

Ivan inclined his head slightly, a sympathetic look on his face. "I am understanding that...My father had a similar reaction," he said in a low voice, mouth held in a thin line. It was not a pleasant memory for him.

Alfred let out a short, barking laugh, hitting the Russian lightly on the arm. "Well, what'dya know 'bout that! Guess we've got more goin' for us than I thought, big guy! We're actually kind of a lot alike, you and me," he exclaimed, grinning wildly. "Say, what're the airships like from where you come from?" he asked out of sudden curiousity, wanting to change the subject a bit.

"Ah, I will tell you, but only if we can stop in there to talk," Ivan replied slyly, gesturing to a cheerily, lantern-lit tavern. He hadn't had a good drink since the last port they'd docked in, and he was starting to feel the need for alcohol.

"Sure thing, come on," Alfred agreed happily, heading over to the establishment with a good-natured smile. _Hey, I may as well have a drink. Dad's already pissed off anyway, and I don't answer to him anymore, so it doesn't matter what he'd say anyway. I'm going to enjoy myself tonight! _the sandy blond teen thought to himself, putting on his signature smile as he entered the tavern.

* * *

><p>schlingel: Brat <strong>In German<strong>

tumb: Stupid **In German**

окончательно: Finally **In Russian**

Прошу прощения: I am sorry **In Russian**

dummkopf: Idiot **In German**

Herr: Sir **In German**

Muttersprache: Mother tongue **In German**


	5. I Told You This Was a Bad Idea!

"Bwahahaha, no way!" Alfred laughed out loud, spilling some of his drink onto the pub's surprisingly clean floors. "There's no way that happened!"

"Da, da; it's true! And after he spat out the tea we put salt into, he tripped on the leg of his chair and overturned the table as he fell into the lake! He was not very amused, but it was worth the scolding we got," Ivan hummed in amusement, his face red from both alcohol intake and laughing.

"Man, your family sounds crazy, but in a fun way! I don't have any siblings, so I only had other kids from around where I lived to play with. It was great, but I still wonder what it would've been like to have a brother or sister to mess around with," Alfred said in a breathy tone, recovering from his outburst of laughter. "I have an uncle* that's pretty much around my age, and he was fun growing up with, but he's been working on an offshore refueling station since I turned thirteen. So, he's not really around any more."

"Don't be too quick to wish for brothers and sisters, comrade; they're not as nice as you might think, da? All of my brothers* are конвульсии* and most of my sisters* are annoying, unless, of course, they just feel like ignoring me," Ivan muttered, draining his tankard of cheap ale in a few hearty gulps.

"Pfft, who needs 'em, right? We're fine all on our own, and we get to do the greatest thing in the world: work on an airship! What's better than that?" Alfred asked loudly, gulping down the rest of his drink as well, though he started to cough near the end; he hadn't actually had alcohol before this.

"You do not drink often, do you?" Ivan chuckled, ordering more drinks from the barkeeper as Alfred spluttered a bit.

"No," the blonde admitted roughly, coughing once more to clear his throat. "But, hey, this is a special night! I'm celebrating!"

"Da, da! Special night, much celebrating! We should get you something better than this, hm?" Ivan laughed, thumping Alfred roughly on the back. As he tried to catch the barkeeper's attention once more, he bumped into someone else. "Ah, я извиняться, I did not see you-" Ivan began to apologize, but was suddenly shoved back.

"Ge' off me, ya bloody swine! What you doin', bumpin' into me like tha'? You tryin' to start somethin'?!" the man that Ivan had accidentally knocked into slurred out angrily, jabbing a stubby finger into the Russian's chest. "I oughta return the favor, eh?"

"Hey, cool off, will ya? He didn't do it on purpose," Alfred huffed, frowning at the grungy man.

"I _was _apologizing, da?" Ivan added, sending a subtle glare at the other bar patron, though it was more than likely lost on the inebriated man. _Are all the people here so...frustrating?_

"Speak bleedin' English, you twit! Can't understand a thing comin' out of yer mouth with tha' God awful accent of yers," the man muttered, spitting on Ivan's uniform. "Bloody foreigners, think they own the damned place..."

Ivan bristled at that, his purple eyes narrowing at the insults. With the misjudgment of alcohol running through him, he cracked a fist across the man's face, earning a loud snap and a pain-filled howl from the other man. Not giving the man a chance to recover, he grabbed him by his shirt front and slammed him up against a wall, the man's feet dangling off the ground by a few good inches. "Would you like to repeat that, _comrade_?" he sneered, his accent growing thicker in his anger.

"Oi, le' go of me!" the man blurted out, pulling his arm back and slamming his tankard into the side of Ivan's head.

Ivan made a sound of surprise and slight pain as the blow connected, his grip going slack.

"Hey!" Alfred barked, making a sloppy tackle to take down the man before he could do anything else. He landed several punches on the balding man before he was pulled off by a couple of other bar-goers, though he flailed wildly and broke free of their hold rather quickly.

The man scrambled back to his feet, holding a hand to his nose as blood streamed from it. "You all saw tha'! He hit me first!" he howled, his voice coming out nasal and somewhat high-pitched in his outrage.

This drew various grumbles of agreement from the occupants of the tavern, a small mob forming around the two younger men.

"Ha, think you can take both of us on? Bring it!" Alfred exclaimed confidently, brandishing the stool he had been sitting on previously. He felt Ivan at his back, and glanced over his shoulder to see that the Russian was facing off with more disgruntled bar patrons. _Pfft, two against ten...I like those odds_, the blonde thought to himself confidently, motioning with a quirk of his head and a cocky smile that he was ready to go whenever they were.

"Let's get 'em!" someone in the group shouted, and the fight began.

* * *

><p>"Oh, this is bad...This is <em>very <em>bad! Where is he? He should have been back by now...What if he got mugged, or...or...worse?!" Toris Laurinaitis, lieutenant of the _United Arms_' second air fighter squad, worried out loud, pacing back and forth.

"Like, who in their right mind would try to mug that big brute? That's just suicide," Feliks Lukasiewicz replied in a bored voice, half-heartedly inspecting his nails.

"He might be lost; he's terrible with directions, and he's never been to this city before! Oh, no...what if someone tricked him into following them down a dark alley and they killed him?! Ivan's very trusting of people, it's possible!" Toris continued to fret, wringing his hands nervously.

Feliks gave his friend a look, rolling his grass green eyes. "If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were treating him like he was still six. Tor, honey, he's in the military. Ivan can take care of himself...no matter that he's got the smarts of a newborn puppy," he added under his breath, smoothing a wrinkle out of his uniform.

"Feliks, don't say it like that! Ivan's just...a little different," Toris reprimanded, a vague hand gesture accompanying his words. "You grew up with him too, Feliks, you know what he's like."

"Tch, yeah, gullible," the blonde snorted, grinning mischievously. "Toris, I'm seriously bored here! Can't we just, like, ditch this lame guard duty and go out and have some fun?" he whined, pointing to the still lit lanterns of the many pubs in London.

Toris blanched at his friend's lack of responsibility, though he should have been used to it by now; they had known each other since they were very young, and Feliks hadn't changed a bit over the years. "Do you know how much trouble - actually, _more_ trouble - that would get us into?! The Commander is already ticked off at us enough as it is, I can't even imagine what he would do to us if we skipped out on our dog watch...," the brunet mumbled, worrying his bottom lip nervously just at the thought.

"Seriously, Tor, you worry _way_ too much. Live a little," Feliks said in a confident tone, leaning against the railing of the ship.

Toris decided it was one of those good times to ignore the Polish man, and promptly started up his pacing again. He was about to go on with his route for the watch when a noise in the distance caught his attention, and it only caused him to worry further as he recognized what it was.

"Great, he's been out drinking," Feliks pointed out bluntly what Toris was thinking, a pout on his face. "Why does that big lug get to have a night of totally amazing fun and I don't?! The world is, like, totally cruel."

* * *

><p>"You know - you know what we should do?" Alfred slurred out cheerfully, stumbling down the cobblestone street none too quietly. "We should...you know...go back to the big, uh, ship-boat thing...and - and, like, celebrate our hard-fought victory! Maaan, this street needs to be - hic - needs to be re-done, or whatever they do to streets that make them streets...I can't walk in a straight line on this wobbly thing!" he practically shouted, pointing accusingly at the stone pavement beneath his booted feet.<p>

Ivan snorted in a short spurt of laughter, nearly tripping over a cat as the animal bolted out into his path from an alley. "Street is fine, is you, comrade! You are greenhorn when it comes to the drinking," the Russian said in an expert tone, though he was having trouble keeping his feet as well.

"Am not! I ain't got horns, green or other how!" Alfred replied in a ruffled tone, giving his companion a miffed look as he checked his head to make sure he did, in fact, _not_ have horns. "Pfft, you sound like a pig when you laugh, snorting an' all," the blonde added, poking the larger teenager in the side.

"And you have the annoyingly obnoxious laugh of a donkey," Ivan countered, a goofy smile on his face.

"Ivan, where have you been?! Our watch is almost over for the night - actually, early morning now - and you're _just now_ getting back here! We're going to be in even more trouble than we already are if the Commander finds out that you skipped out on your duties to go _drinking_!" Toris groused as he met the two drunk males at the gangplank to make sure neither stumbled over the edge and into the harbor water below.

"If, Toris, _if_! It will only be bad _if_ he finds out, da?" Ivan replied cheerily, capturing the slightly shorter brunet in a bear hug.

"I-Ivan, he a-always finds out...P-Please stop crushing me," Toris pleaded, struggling to get out of the larger young man's grasp.

"Heeeey...Hey, hey! Hey, guys!" Alfred blurted in a semi-hushed tone, stumbling his way over to a dark entryway that led into the belly of the ship. "Where's this go?" he asked, squinting into the darkness below.

"That goes down to the air fighter hanger, which takes up a lot of the ship, actually," Feliks responded in a surprisingly helpful tone, though he didn't look all that interested.

"Da! I am captain of one of two air fighter squads, so I spend lots and lots of time down there," Ivan hiccoughed, leaning against Toris heavily, which made the slighter male wilt a bit under his weight.

"Ooooh, man, I just had a wicked thought here," Alfred said, sounding suddenly enlightened.

"Please, don't be anything stupid...," Toris muttered under his breath, his face screwed up with worry.

"Let's see who's a better flyer, me or you," the blonde announced, pointing an index finger to the early morning sky.

"Oh, this'll be good," Feliks laughed, not intending to stop the inebriated duo from heading down to the hanger below.

_Why is my life like this? _Toris wondered helplessly to himself, running after the others in an attempt - whether or not it may be futile - to stop anyone from actually going through with this.

"So, you have flown something like this before, Fedya*, or do you only have experience with _little flying machines_?" Ivan asked in a smug tone, smiling widely as he watched Alfred's face evolve into an expression of insult.

"'Course I do! And my CloudRunner was not a 'little flying machine'!" Alfred huffed in a terrible attempt at copying Ivan's thick accent.

"Tch, sure you have, kid. Have you ever even seen a military grade air fighter? Y'know, outside of hologram books," Feliks laughed, smirking at the sandy blonde teen.

_Nope_, Alfred thought blearily to himself, squinting in the dimmed light of the ship's hangar to make out the subtly darker shapes of the airborne war machines.

"Please, don't do anything rash," Toris pleaded in a hushed voice, trailing behind the others.

"But, Toris, this is gonna be hilarious! Besides, you know Ivan can operate these things totally fine when he's drunk as a skunk," Feliks said in a conspiratorial tone, leaning in close to the Lithuanian man's ear. "The big fool grew up playing around with _tanks_, I think he'll be fine."

"I'm not worried about Ivan - well, I am, but not as much as this new recruit! He has no experience with these specific air fighters, you know that they can be temperamental at times," the brunet retorted, getting distracted by the grating sound of the hanger doors sliding open. "Ah! We really have to stop them, Feliks!"

Alfred sloppily climbed onto the wing of the nearest air fighter, hissing at the harsh feeling of cold metal touching his unprotected skin. He pawed around the surface of the machine for a latch, or something of the sort, to open the cockpit window to get into the aircraft. His alcohol-clumsy fingers trailed across what felt like a small control panel right below the crease of the window, the slight indentations of numbered buttons hazily registering in his brain. "Heeeey, do I need some sort of code or something?" he whined, slumping forward a bit as he lost his balance.

"Try: one, nine, nine, one," Ivan piped out, already prepping his air fighter.

Alfred smooshed his face as close to the panel as he could get without accidentally pressing a bunch of buttons, or further distorting his vision, having to enter the code several times as he got it wrong twice before he could get into the cockpit. "Alright...Let's see what this metal bird has got!" he whooped, powering up the craft and jamming the acceleration. The air fighter roared to life, the screech of metal sounding through the ship as the aircraft ripped free of its stabilizing cords and flew out through the opening in the ship's massive side.

Ivan grinned, releasing his aircraft of its restraints before gunning it as well, chasing after Alfred through the peach colored sky as night became morning.

"We're going to get court-martialed for this, aren't we?" Toris groaned, allowing his body to slump against one of the support beams.

"Probably," Feliks hummed, earning himself an irritated look from his friend, which he promptly ignored.

* * *

><p>конвульсии: "Jerks" <strong>in Russian<strong>

я извиняться: "I'm sorry" or "I appologize" **in Russian**

Fedya: Closest thing to Alfred that I could find **in Russian**

Alfred's uncle: This is in reference to Sealand, as he fit better into the story as an uncle that was close to Alfred's age when he was growing up than showing up somewhere in the story later on. He might make an actual appearance at some time, but for now he's stuck with just a mentioning.

Ivan's brothers and sisters: Since I knew I wanted Ivan to be royalty, I decided to make his family much bigger than in the actual series, since I like the idea of a large royal family. Hence, I have used the principalities of Kievan Rus to create other siblings for Russia, Ukraine, and Belarus. They'll all come into it and be introduced later on, so look for them later in the story.


End file.
